Jackie Ruth

Personal dilemma... →

white-she-wolf:

I feel an urge to apologize to an old friend for something that happened last year. I was going through a horrible time and upset and offended her and her family. I fully admit I’m in the wrong. I was trying to reconnect with her after many years and I really don’t think I’m very significant in…

Hi! I’m sure I don’t understand the whole situation, but I absolutely think you should talk to her again. You need a friend to talk to about trauma, and even if she won’t admit it, I’m pretty sure she needs to talk about it too. I just wrote a post about my situation dealing with friendships and sexual abuse. If you want to read it, I would hope that it would give you inspiration. Good luck!

— 1 week ago with 2 notes
Rape wasn’t the worst thing that ever happend to me

Trigger warning: rape scene

It really wasn’t. The worst time of my life was the period following it.

Yesterday I was overwhelmed by all of the posts in my facebook feed about rape. I didn’t want to see that. But, I was compelled to read some articles. Because of those posts, I compelled to talk about when I was raped. It’s completely true that a lot of people who are abused never say anything about it. What I didn’t realize for a long time is that not talking about it was responsible for ruining a lot of my friendships. I don’t like saying that I’m a victim. I’m not saying that rape ruined my life. What ruined a good year of my life, was my embarrassment to talk about it.


The story you want/ don’t want to hear:

Freshman year in college I was dating the best guy in the world. He was the epitome of the strange, midwestern, pothead guy that seems to be my type. I loved him. I was a virgin at the time. And I wanted him to be the one.

Well he didn’t want the responsibility. He dumped me in an abrupt manner.

I was still a freshman. I was stupid and impressionable and even though I thought I understood guys and sex, I totally didn’t.

So, after he broke up with I was a fucking mess. I was heartbroken and lonely in a new town full of privileged and socially-awkward strangers.

I jumped on the first strange, stoner, liberal artist who showed interest in me.

A new “he”. He was quiet, so I thought he was nice. He was chill, so I thought he undestood me. I came on to him. He told me I was womanly.

We were already dating for a few months when he raped me. It wasn’t the first time we had sex. He didn’t threaten me. I would have willingly had sex with him if he would have agreed to go to his bedroom. I didn’t want to disrespect his mother by doing it in their library.

He peer pressured me into having sex with him. I said no, but I didn’t struggle when he unzipped my pants. I held still while he pumped into me and I squeezed so it would end soon.

After, I forgave him.

I forgave him because I didn’t want to explain to his mom why I ended the visit so soon. I didn’t want to explain to my parents why I came home early. I forgave him because I was lonely and I wanted someone who wanted me.

I forgave him and we didn’t have sex for a long time. Eventually, we did and he was sexually abusive again. In newer, kinkier ways. But, he never did threaten me with violence. I did it because of his relentless asking for it. I kept thinking that I was his girlfriend, this is what girlfriends do. Even if they don’t want to.

I broke up with him in the end. Actually I told him that I needed a break. I said that maybe we could date again in the future. I took a year off from college right after that. I was miserable there and he was too suffocating to even live in the same town as.

I don’t think people want to hear this story because it’s not what most people think sexual abuse is because he was my boyfriend and it was nonviolent. I didn’t think it was for a long time. I still blame myself for taking it from him.

I didn’t tell anyone about being abused for a long time because I never thought it was right to just talk about my sex life. I sort of wanted to protect him from judgement. And I didn’t want people to pity me or think I was weak.
Ultimately, that was my biggest problem.


The worst time of my life:

In my year off from college I thought I would find myself again. I wouldn’t be lonely because I had my family and friends established in my home town.

I reconnected with a friend who I had a crush on, Eddy. Eddy is the best “he”. I, obviously being a lonely and sexually-confused person, started having sex with Eddy. Eddy was different than most guys. He was extremely attentive, sensitive, and he loved me from the beginning.

Basically, Eddy was instrumental in the healing process after I had become a depressed, anxiety-ridden, sexual abuse victim. He became my best friend. He could tell I had sex issues after a while of doing it together. I was able to open up to him. He had actually been sexually abused, too.

Well, that was wonderful and everything. But my group of friends didn’t know what was going on with me. I was depressed, distant, and always hanging out with a guy. They asked, Why would I be hanging out with a new guy right after I broke up with one? When did I choose guys over them? Why did I act so differently?

My best friend at the time took my behavior especially hard. She hated that Eddy I were together. She thought he had used her in order to get to me. She talked shit to my other friends, and a group opinion was formed of me.

They slowed down on inviting me to hang out. I got in a lot of fights with each person in the group. And none of them took my side when I tried talking about problems with the others. I’m pretty sure they just got mad at me because they thought I didn’t like them as much as I liked Eddy.

At the same time, my parents were talking about divorce. They were fighting about money a lot. My dad wanted my mom to work more, but my mom lost her will to work after I stopped going to school. On top of that, my mom loved my rapist ex-boyfriend and hated Eddy. And she didn’t have a problem saying it.

That year was the worst of my life. I was so lonely and jaded. I went home because I wanted my relationships to go back to the way they were. And they all were turned upside down. I ended up with one super nice boyfriend who I resented for inadvertently ruining all my other friendships. I was lonelier than ever.

I don’t blame my friends for the way they acted. I knew they weren’t the most supportive and sensitive friends before college. They wouldn’t have been able to tell what happened just by my behavior. I should have said something. I think it’s really fucked that I kept this in for so long. And it’s fucked that so many other people don’t feel comfortable talking about sex and sexual abuse. So, whoever the you are, I hope this makes you want to be more honest and talkative about sex. I was depressed for a long time, and a lot of it was my fault for staying silent.

— 2 weeks ago
#rape  #sexual assult  #sex  #rape awareness month  #sexual abuse awareness month  #saam  #sexualassaultawarenessmonth  #trackingassault 
Presidential weed?

Lol just kidding.

Sort of?

Just found out while websurfing during my study break that there is a type of weed named after every president.

Here’s what I found on marijuana review websites:

Obama kush:
This unique indica appropriately channels the President’s famous message of ‘Change’ as it invigorates and inspires. Daughter of indica Afghani and mostly sativa hybrid OG Kush, Obama Kush sets itself apart from other indicas through its cerebral stimulation and euphoric rush.

And George Bush kush:
The reason I’m told it is called George Bush is because it is supposed to make you unable to coherently make a sentence. Now where this is a little exaggerated, it is a very potent strain.

— 1 month ago
#fun fact  #marijuana 
I wish I was Rihanna

I wish I was Rihanna for a lot of reasons. Mostly for her fashion and huge bank accounts. But right now mostly because she has someone to take professional pictures of her for instagram. Who is going to document my cute outfits?

— 1 month ago
#riri  #rihanna  #jealous 
A rant on how Vogue should feature more black cover models

*Namely my celebrity crush, Ciara*



Lena Dunham is on the cover of this February’s Vogue. This is cool and all because she is super talented and I’ve seen every episode of Girls and I go to her alma mater.

But what about Ciara?!

Every month that someone who is not black and, in my opinion, a major contributor to the fashion world gets a Vogue cover, I am disappointed. I’m disappointed a lot because I read Vogue every month.

I mean, come on Anna Wintor! Ciara sat next to you at fashion week and she has publically spoken about wanting a cover. Not to mention Ciara’s fashion forward wardrobe and that she’s the offical muse of french haute couture fashion house, Givenchy.

…Britney Spears has even got a cover…

I just really feel like fashion-qualified black women are being over looked by Vogue. And I don’t want to start sounding self-righteous or radical, but Vogue really does have a bad history of this.

Does anyone know Donyale Luna, the first black cover model in 1966?



Vogue probably doesn’t want us to talk about that issue. Due to the racist ideas of the times, Luna’s nose and mouth were covered up.

Fashion articles always give props to Naomi Campbell as “one of the first” black female Vogue covers. But I don’t really know if thats an accomplishment considering she was popular in the late 80s and 90s. I mean, hot and fashionable black women have been around just as long as white women. Definitely before the late 80s.

So idk, I think we should start a petition for Ciara to get a cover. Or maybe I’ll start dressing like Britney Spears in fashion protest.

— 2 months ago with 2 notes
#Ciara  #vogue  #problems  #donyale luna 
I’m failing Calc II and now I don’t know if I’m smart enough to be civil engineer

I’m not even being a slacker. I’ve learned so much in this course and I’ve attended all the classes. I even go to office hours with the professor to talk about problems I can’t solve. I think I’ve reached the point where working hard and success aren’t directly related. My whole life I’ve thought that if I work hard enough at something, I’ll be able to understand it. So, I’ve thought that I can be an engineer if I just try hard enough. But now I’m thinking maybe some people (me) just aren’t capable of whatever they want.

— 5 months ago
#fuck  #fml  #i hate everything  #college  #calculus 
"The worst part about eating Subway is the way your hands smell after."
My boyfriend, the ever complainer
— 5 months ago
#lol  #subway  #my boyfriend  #he actually loves Subway 
iheartmyart:

Henri Huet (French, 1927–1971). The body of an American paratrooper killed in action in the jungle near the Cambodian border is raised up to an evacuation helicopter, Vietnam, 1966. Gelatin silver print (printed 2004), 14 x 107⁄8 in. (35.6 x 27.7 cm). The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, museum purchase. © Associated Press
Part of the exhibition WAR/PHOTOGRAPHY: Images of Armed Conflict and Its Aftermath at the Brooklyn Museum, November 8, 2013–February 2, 2014

iheartmyart:

Henri Huet (French, 1927–1971). The body of an American paratrooper killed in action in the jungle near the Cambodian border is raised up to an evacuation helicopter, Vietnam, 1966. Gelatin silver print (printed 2004), 14 x 1078 in. (35.6 x 27.7 cm). The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, museum purchase. © Associated Press

Part of the exhibition WAR/PHOTOGRAPHY: Images of Armed Conflict and Its Aftermath at the Brooklyn Museum, November 8, 2013–February 2, 2014

(Source: asaltovisual.blogspot.com)

— 5 months ago with 165 notes
#photography 

My boyfriend would compare me to these guys when I first wake up.

(Source: bethanwi, via clodia-sempere)

— 5 months ago with 169446 notes
#funny animals  #compliments